The incandescent sun hits my weather-beaten skin,
leathered in many battles.
piercing through the shreds.
To unravel my gut
I take off the veil,
made of shame,
and weakness becomes strength.
Every truth is a lie
flashing colours and hurried words.
Meaning eludes us all,
or perhaps we all have killed it.
A purposeful lie,
so powerful the liar becomes a magician:
he is deluded himself.
No longer can we tell artifice from reality.
Perhaps they were always just the same.